lighter fluid
by ShatteredDiamonds
Summary: Carlos looks at Logan with wavering, scared little kid eyes. “I’m scared,” he chokes out. “I know that I sound stupid, but I’m really scared. Everything is changing and just…” /CarlosxLogan, KendallxJames/


**lighter fluid**

**kendall/james, carlos/logan**

**an:** just as _broadway is dark tonight _is kendall's story, this is carlos'. i had imagined this to be around 12k, around as long as _broadway is dark tonight _was, but first i had Maneulla in mind and then the love triangle thing with Logan, and then his uncle came into it.

i quickly discovered that Carlos had many demons that he had to deal with before his story could be finished. he had so many things locked up in his head that had to be dealt with before i could write the words 'the end' at the end of the page, because after what he was going through, i just couldn't cut his trial short just because i wanted to.

so essentially, carlos garcia wrote this story. i was just the one who put the words on paper.

his voice was so strong that i couldn't stop writing. his fears and regrets were so strong that sometimes i couldn't help but get sucked into his world.

by the way, when the lyrics are in the middle of the story, that just designates that it's pretty much the second half of the story. the first is his falling and the second part is his saving.

i apologize for any errors but _lighter fluid _took so much out of me that i could only run through it about three times and i couldn't give it the careful editing that it deserved. (this sucked so much out of me and i so hope that you enjoy it.)

this is dedicated to the girls: xavia, katie, kristina, and charlette. i love you girls.

_---_

"_And if your plane fell out of the skies  
__Who would you call with your last goodbyes?  
__Should be so careful who we live out of our lives  
__So when we long for absolution,  
__there'll be no one on the line"_

_- "Live Like We're Dying,"  
Kris Allen_

---

For a second, Carlos thinks that Kendall might explode, his face red with anger, scarlett crawling from below his shirt to his neckline where it finally piles onto his cheeks, firey red smears of color. His hands are clenched and his eyes are pure murder.

James is on the ground, cradling his hand with a mixture of amazement, fear, and hurt in his brown-green eyes. His body is s-s-shaking and his eyes dart between Wayne-Wayne and Kendall.

Carlos can feel Logan tense up next to him, muscles contracting and he knows the oncoming attempts at a fight. He can already hear the yelling in his ears, he bets. (And Carlos is taken back to a time years ago when Logan would huddle under the sheets and they would talk on the phone for hours as the screaming slowly faded to a dull roar in the background as the clock passed into the a.m. hours. This is what best friends do.)

Carlos licks his lips and steps back slightly as he grabs Logan's sleeve in his hands, guiding him back. Logan has that far away look in his eyes, like a little child, and he looks like he's twelve again and he's crawling through Carlos' window, shaking, because it got too much, he'd say with tears in his eyes. He presses them against a wall, moving so that Logan can't see the fight.

(Because even though he's the smaller one and the stupider one, he's always Logan's protector, it's been that way for years. He protects Logan like a little kid and he helps Carlos with homework and studying and schoolwork.)

It's silent for a second except for Kendall's harsh breathing, James' hushed breaths of pain as he cradles his hand to his chest, body shaking. His eyes are on the ground now, face lighting up red like Christmas time.

"I told you," is all Wayne-Wayne says, and there's a stupid little grin on his face and that's what sends Kendall flying.

He crosses the room in two steps and wrestles him to the ground.

Carlos looks briefly around the room and sees that the body guards are nowhere to be found and his breath leaves his lungs in a huge gasp. He knows that if the three body guards come back, they're screwed. Kendall will have his hands full with jack-ass over there and James is injured, Logan is paralyzed with fear and he can only take on one.

Kendall has Wayne-Wayne by the throat, eyes blazing and face an angry red. His body shakes (just like James, who now has his eyes screwed shut, eyebrows drawn low in pain and is gritting his teeth) with the force of pure _anger _and for a second, Carlos Garcia is terrified out of his mind.

He moves in front of Logan instinctively, ready to protect him as Kendall just keeps his hand clenched around Wayne-Wayne's throat. His eyes are liquid fire and blazing hell and fierce protectiveness, his dreams ripped from his hands as he flies on a plane to Hollywood so that James can have a chance for fame and success.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jack-ass says, voice trembling pathetically.

Kendall's eyes glint pure evil and Carlos shudders, eyes focusing on Kendall's face. "Listen, you come prancing around here and mess with _my _band and _my _shot at success. Fine. But there are two things that you don't mess with. My friends and my boyfriend," Kendall hisses, eyes dancing flames on an open field of wheat. Everything sparks and is set up into flames. "And so far, you've messed with both of them. Look."

He waves his hands over to him and Logan (who now has his eyes closed, fingers holding Carlos' hand in a death grip) as Jack-ass swallows thickly. Then, Kendall waves to James, who is looking at them with a mixture of fear, confusion and (Carlos' breath stops in his throat at this and _how could be stupid? _a voice whispers in the back of his head and he shushes it) shining love as he looks at Kendall. His hand is still cradled to his chest.

"See, so you're not doing so good here. Touch them again and I'll cut your balls off, throw them in a blender and make you drink them. Got it?"

Jack-ass swallows and slowly nods his head, eyes wide.

The body guards come back into the room, surveying the scene with distaste and a hint of amusement. "Something going on?"

"No," Wayne-Wayne says, ripping Kendall's hand off of his throat. His eyes glow fire back, only his is the brief flicker of a match in a dark room while Kendall's is a white glowing ball of destruction, melting metal and boys egos. "Nothing whatsoever. Let's go."

He stands up, dusts himself off and smiles at James. Kendall has to refrain himself from attacking him again, Carlos notices as he squeezes Logan's hand within his.

The door shuts quietly, only it sounds like slamming and all of them flinch. Carlos whispers, "They're gone," in Logan's ear and is rewarded with a big thankful grin, the kind that make the girls go wild.

It's quiet, way too quiet, and James won't meet any of their eyes. Kendall goes to help him up. He kneels down, asks in a cotton-soft voice, "Are you okay?" James just nods his head, eyes focused on the ground.

Kendall tries to help him up but James knocks his hand away, looking straight at him and Carlos's heart jumps in his chest. He can still feel his head reeling from the truth that was just dropped, like a bomb and he's still slowly gaining use of his body back. He swallows thickly and feels Logan holding his hand tightly and that helps a little. He wants to tell James that it's okay, it's always been okay. No matter what, Logan and him are behind James, no matter what. They'll always be best friends. No matter what.

But his vocal cords won't work and his lips part and he closes his mouth so hard that his jaws crunch painfully and his head spins. His mouth aches and he sees tears shining painfully in James' brown-green eyes and it's too much way too fucking much and the room closes in on itself.

He wants to step out but can't and the only lifeline he has is Logan's fingers intertwined in his. Logan's hand is smaller than his and a little more feminine and it's his best friend Logan Mitchell, has been his best friend since fifth grade. They've done everything together but James and Kendall were best friends too, now their boyfriends.

His brain completely shuts down on itself and he lets it because thinking nothing is better than everything driving him insane. (He doesn't know how Logan stands it, his head working light speed every moment and his OFF switch is broken.)

James is still looking at him, hurt, tears shining in the florescent light of Rocque Records and his heart breaks. Carlos looks away, tears shining in his own eyes as he feels Logan squeeze his hand, thumb stroking his skin. He trembles.

James stands up, whimpering as his arm gets twisted the wrong way and allows Kendall to lead him out, eyes staring downward. Tears roll down his cheeks and Carlos feels guilt well up in his chest so hard and fast that he thinks he's drowning.

He waits until they leave to stalk out of the room, hand still intertwined with Logan.

---

James won't even look at Kendall, eyes cast downward, tears shining visibily in the light. His hand is cradled close to his chest. He looks like a lost little boy that Kendall wants to wrap up in his arms and never let go of.

He knows that's not the right thing to do now, though. (Kendall was the one who wanted to come out, James didn't. He was terrified at what everyone would say, how they would look at him.)

"How are you?" Kendall asks sweetly.

James looks up at him, face red and eyes swollen. "H-How did you see that? You were supposed to be with Gustavo."

_Screw it, they already know, _he thinks. Kendall goes over and slides his arm around James' shoulder, brings his head to slide in the crook between his shoulder and his neck. "I was coming out to use the bathroom and I happened to walk by and see you yelling at Wayne-Wayne. Then, he started screaming back and you just kind of stood there. I knew that I should be going back but I was kind of curious to see what was gonna happen. Then, he punched you in the stomach and twisted your arm up and when I saw you on the floor, sitting there… You looked so terrified."

"I was," James admits quietly. "I mean, I knew that I was bigger than him and everything but…"

"He was a nutcase," Kendall admits.

James laughs a tiny bit before he stops, body turning stiff. "Why did you tell them that?"

"I'm sorry," Kendall says. He presses a kiss to the side of James' head, smiles when he feels his boyfriend press a kiss to the hollow of his throat. He shudders and tries to hide it (because his horomones going crazy would not be the best thing right now), saying, "I was angry and you were hurt and I wanted to kill him. I forgot that Logan and Carlos were in there."

"Did you see the way that Carlos was looking at me? It was like he couldn't stand looking at me."

Kendall swallows thickly. "Yeah, but you saw the tears in his eyes. You know that in a couple hours he'll come over and give you a hug and tell you that everything is okay. Then he'll ask if you want to go out for pizza."

James laughs, holding Kendall's hand against his heart. He looks up at Kendall with sad eyes and sees that the the murder and hatred in those green eyes he loves so much are gone, replaced with a hint of sadness and shining love.

"You sure that Carlos is going to be okay with this?" James asks and Kendall nods, taking his hand.

"He's probably pacing around the room right now, thinking it through."

---

Carlos is pacing the ground, onetwothree, mind reeling and hands shaking.

_They're boyfriends? I-I-Why didn't I see it before? I'm so stupid, I swear. I can never do anything right, just like _he _said, I'm such a screw up. _

He stops and takes a deep breath, eyes turning towards the ceiling. His heart beats in his head in quick, erratic bursts and he's aware of every ounce of blood pumping through his body, body working as one huge circuit. His head is not connected, floating somewhere high above him and clouds block his vision.

He stops and sighs, looking down. He halfway expects there to be dents in the carpet from where he's been manically pacing but there's not even a scratch.

He flops on the couch and buries his head in the cushions, screaming.

He screams out his frustrations at moving, everything he knows ripped from him, for not knowing and being stupid. He screams for his family and James and Kendall and his best friend Logan and he screams for himself.

After a minute, he stops and air is getting harder to take into his quivering lungs. He shuts his eyes and focuses on the familiar pattern that even he can't screw up; in out, in out, in out.

Finally, the dizziness in his head and the feather-light feeling in his bones exaporates and he sighs again.

The sun peaks through the shades at him and he stares at the brief glimpse of what he can see of the outside world; the cut of the sidewalk, a brief field of grass, an abandoned flip flop and that yellow thing that's on the street so the cars don't run onto the sidewalk.

Finally, the sunlight starts to hurt his eyes so he stands up and slips on his shoes. He pulls a jacket on over his short-sleeved shirt and grabs his helmet off the table. He doesn't put it on, just holds it in his hands.

He was always breaking stuff, hitting his head and being stupid. He was always messing everything up; breaking objects and destroying hearts and causing people pain. His helmet was to prevent him from being a screw-up.

He sets it back down on the table, and rushes outside, hitting the floor running.

He pushes past people in business suits and druggies with glazed eyes and wannabe actress with skeleton bodies. He pushes past the people of hopeless dreams and wasted lives, just walking the line of life-death.

He heads outside and runs as fast as his legs will take him, the sun beating overhead. He feels alive for the first time since he's got to Hollywood.

---

He runs until he feels like puking, body weak. Sweat runs into his eyes.

This is such a huge difference for him; in Minnesota, you couldn't sweat on the ice. Sure, it would make your jersey stick to you a little uncomfortably, but that was about it. It didn't sting your eyes and mess up your hair and run thin lines into your mouth.

He gasps and gasps and gasps for breath, his heart thumping onetwothree in his chest. He wants to scream but holds it back. He's surprised at the amount of self-control he has; maybe it had been building up from all the times he's never bothered to use it.

He stops and walks into the first place with food he sees. It's a small pizza parlor and his stomach turns painfully. He sits down and takes in huge gulps of air-conditioned air. It burns his lungs a little but he doesn't stop until the stitch in his side disappears and the lights stop dancing behind his eyelids.

A pretty girl comes up to him, smiling. Her name tag reads 'Manuella' and she's got long black hair, heart shaped lips, squished black eyes, and a dark-colored complexion. She's pretty in a rough kind of way, not all fakified and beautiful like society tells her to be. She's got a crooked smile and her body isn't a perfect hour-glass shape but she's still the most beautiful thing that Carlos has seen since getting here.

She smiles at him, handing him a menu. "Hi, my name is Manuella. What can I get you to drink?"

Carlos has a sudden, random need to tell her everything about his life, spill every ill-kept secret buried beneath this humour exterior and tell about _him, _the person who almost destroyed him. He takes a deep breath and swallows painfully.

"Uh, yeah," he answers dumbly. _(You're so stupid, you can never do anything right, fuck-up.) _"Can I get a water? And maybe an ice tea? Ooh, do you have ice cream?"

She throws her head back and laughs, full and a little high-pitched. She has that Spanish accent that he'd notice anywhere and he swears that he can feel himself falling, falling, falling…

"A little hungry, hmm?" She grins.

Carlos throws her that crooked grin, all white teeth, the one that makes the girls swoon. He's pleased to see scarlett crawl from below her shirt and spread warmly onto her cheeks. He's in love; he knows it.

_You don't even know her, _someone whispers in the back of his head. He shudders and rubs his arms to cover it up; he's not cold, but he's such a great pretender.

"Cold?" She asks.

"Yeah, just a little. Just got back from running. Need to keep these in shape," he says, flexing his arms. He grins at her again.

"Hmm, nice," Manuella says.

"Yeah," he says. "Hey, what's the best thing you have here?"

Manuella taps her pencil against her note pad, pretending to think. "I'd have to say the cheese, tomato, and roast beef pizza. Sounds horrible, but it's wonderful."

"I'll have two of those," Carlos says, shutting the menu and smiling at her.

She smiles back and his heart p-p-pounds in his chest, quick and unsteady and a little fearful. She shuts her menu, flashes a little weak, scared smile and is off, rushing towards the kitchen. Her smell of apples and grease and girl wafts with her.

He slumps in his seat. He can still feel his shirt sticking to his skin and he shudders again, shoulders drawing up. He rubs his hands over his arms and watches cars pass in the window. It's a plethora of colors; sunset red, cotton white, nighttime black, ocean water blue, forest green.

Suddenly, he feels tired. He has a strong urge to close his eyes and crash on top of the table, fade away and crack into pieces onto the floor. He wants to scream until he can't talk and it's hard to breathe. He wants to cry until his eyes are so swollen that he can't see. He wants to smash his head into the wall until the world gets fuzzy around the edges and slowly fades away, turns darker and eventually falls away as the darkness swallows him and he floats and flies.

He wants to float away, yeah, that's it. He closes his eyes, chin on top of his arms and thinks of the ocean, ebbing and flowing. He can smell the salt water, thick and heavy and so sweet that it almost chokes him. It gets into his eyes and in his mouth, but he doesn't care. The moon is overhead and it's shining down on him, grinning wickedly like a demon in disguise, dressed up in innocent white hues and sweet promises of high tide. He floats on top of the surface like a dead piece of wood or maybe a forgotten little doll; his eyes are wide and empty and his face turned toward the sky, opened in a scream.

He can see tear tracks on his face as he floats, floats, floats away.

_What happened? _he asks, looking down at himself.

Suddenly, he wants to wake up and terror so thick creeps on him that he forgets to breathe for a second. Darkness wraps around his eyes like silk scarves and cuts off his scream. _It's you. You refused to tell anyone and it killed you. It got too much and you just wanted to float away._

_No, _he tells the voice (he doesn't dare put a name to it because that would be acknowledging that it's there, and it's not, no siree, he's just imagining it), voice a terrified little childwhisper, hiding in the back of the closet and buried amongst hung up dress pants and old work boots and last year's Christmas decorations. _I'm just sleepy, that's it. Gustavo has us working like crazy and I haven't gotten much sleep and-_

_No, _the voice whispers again and although he can't see it, he knows that it's grinning, mouth curled into a serpant grin of pure evil. He shudders and hears himself whimper but he's stuck, limbs filled with lead. _You want to tell someone, don't you? You could end up like this. You don't want that, do you?_

He feels hot tears run down his face and doesn't try to wipe them away, just squeezes his eyes tighter as he sees his dead body floating on the surface. Suddenly, the moon hangs down lower and slowly bleeds red. The sky tints maroon, blocking off the glow of the stars. His dead face has a smidge of red and he wants to cry as he sees the edges of his eyes slide into red.

His dead mouth turns into a grin, and suddenly he hears the voice again, only it's coming from his dead body. _You want to tell, but you can't. You're too fucking scared. You never really grew up, did you? Sure, your body just got bigger, but your still a little boy, scared little pathetic boy._

_No, _he says and he hates himself all over as his voice trembles. _No, you're gone. I refuse to let you do this again-_

_Oh, but it's too late for that, _the voice says again and this time there's a hint of sardonic humor in his voice, honey poured over broken glass. Sweet on the surface but so hurtful and deadly underneath…

_Don't be so rude, Carlos, my boy! _It says, laughing.

His body slowly sits up, even though he's floating. None of this makes sense, none of this fucking makes sense so he doesn't even begin to wonder how he sits up in the middle of the fucking ocean.

_You don't want to end up like me, do you, Carlos? _he asks, mouth turned upward in a twisted little grin. _You won't be able to talk or do anything. You'll just be a little dead boy, floating in the ocean. You don't want that, now do you? But I'm back and there's nothing you can do. I know you-- you won't talk. You won't say anything-_

He gathers up the self hatred in his chest, the years of confusion and hiding the bruises and hiding behind his mask of smiles and jokes. He brings back the scared little boy who would have broken bones and bleeding arms, bruises on his back and fear in his eyes. He takes the hatred and the pain and holds it tight, coils it up in his throat and opens his mouth.

He screams as loud as he fucking can.

---

Carlos wakes up, eyes flying open. He was screaming as loud as he could in his head, but in reality, he was just making a little hoarse croak, sounding like an injured horse. A few people in the restaraunt look at him funny but he just smiles (--the kind of smile that only reaches his mouth because his eyes are still far away, locked up in his mind--) as he slowly blushes red.

"Here you go…" Manuella says, sliding the food on the table.

He can hear the question in her voice, the silent but safe way of asking his name, digging for information but putting nothing on the line. If he doesn't answer, then whatever. If he does, then that'll give her an open window to jump in for conversation. He admires that a little.

"Carlos," he says, flashing his teeth. "Carlos Garcia."

She smiles at him, blushing again as she puts his drink on the table, suddenly standing there awkward. She looks like a little kid, trying to figure out what to do next.

"Hey, what time do you get off?" he asks as he takes a massive bite into his pizza. His eyes widen. "This is amazing," he adds, folding it in half and sticking most of it in his mouth.

She laughs a little nervously, twirling a strand of dark colored hair around her fingertip. "In a few minutes," she admits. "You seem to like it."

He nods his head before he finishes his next piece of pizza in twelve seconds flat, in three bites. "I love food," he admits weakly.

She grins crookedly. "Yeah, I can tell. I guess what they say is true: the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

He nods, digging his spoon into his ice cream and shoves it into his mouth. "Definetly. If I could marry this stuff, I would."

She smiles. "Hey, I get off in about fifteen minutes. Do you want to maybe… do something?"

She's standing there awkwardly, a cute Mexican girl that his parents would love, twirling her hair around her finger and looking like such a little hopeful kid that he can't help but say yes.

She almost jumps up and down and squeals. "Um, just wait here. I'm going to go tell my parents that I'm leaving."

He shoves another bite of chocolate ice cream into his mouth, asking, "Your parents own this?"

Manuella nods, red tinting her cheeks that lets Carlos know that she's embarrassed. "Yeah, I've worked here since I was about twelve years old."

Carlos frowns, taking a sip of soda, swirling it around his mouth. He swallows painfully and asks, "How old are you?"

"Sixteen, almost seventeen," she admits.

Carlos laughs, ignoring the looks from the other customers and at Manuella's confused expression, confesses, "I was afraid that I was going to be a cradle robber or something."

She grins, showing dimples. "Nah, I just look a lot younger that I am. How old are you?"

He pauses for a second as he wipes his mouth, laying his elbows on the table. "Sixteen, almost seventeen."

"Well, well," she says, throwing off her apron. She lays it on the counter, says, "I'll be right back."

She dissapears behind the front door and he watches as the door swings shut before opening briefly (it was one of those cool swinging doors that he liked so much) and he can see Manuella talking with an older woman, probably her mom. The door swings shut before he can see anything else.

He chews on his lower lip, trying not to squirm uncomfortably. This is probably why he's never had a girlfriend: it's the waiting that gets him. He can't stand the fact that while your heart is wide open, hanging off the edge of your sleeve, that someone can hesitate briefly before either ripping it off your arm and smashing it between their shoes and the ground or hold it carefully in their hands.

No, wait, he didn't mean someone, he meant a _girl._

Because he likes girls, the sweet way they smell, soft skin and long hair and high pitched laughs, lip gloss and Aeropostale jackets and high heels, eyeliner and nail polish and soft lips, delicate things that can be broken easily.

It's so very different from the rough way of guys, tanned skin and hard muscles and hair gel and cologne, wrestling in the grass and arms casually thrown across shoulders, white teeth and juvenile jokes and body hair and protectiveness and-

He stops his train of thought, shuts down his mind and smiles as Manuella comes back, hair pulled in a ponytail. She has a bit of lip gloss on, shining in the overhead lights. She has on a purple Aeropostale jacket, a pair of ripped up jeans that hug her curves and a few jangly bracelets, subtle eyeliner and grey Converse.

"Hey, you ready to go?" she asks sweetly.

Carlos clears his throat. "Uh, yeah, I just need to pay for this real quick."

She smiles a little nervously, cheeks flaming red as she says, "Don't worry about it. It's on the house for such a cute guy."

He smiles at her, grabbing her by the sleeve and pulling her towards the door. "I think I'm falling in love with you already."

Her laughter follows them as the sunlight hits his skin, bright LA air and so many waiting opportunities.

---

They're walking down the boardwalk, four hours later as the sun sets behind them in an array of exploding rainbows and rough eyeshadow colors: the color of cherries in the summer, rain on the sidewalk, fresh cotton sheets, graphite on half-attempted essays, water on the lake in Minnesota at midnight. It's the colors of the world, all wrapped up in the sky as the sun sets behind the trees and the far away hushhush of the city fades away as the world dwindles down to two people.

"So," Carlos asks, hand holding Manuella's, "if your parents are Mexican, why do they own a pizza parlor? Isn't that Italian?"

She smacks his arm, intending it to hurt, but it's just the gentle softness of a girl (--and he crushes this thought like an opponent on the ice, smashing them into the wall--) so it doesn't faze him. "Yeah, way to be racist."

He frowns. "I didn't mean it like that, sheesh. Gotta bring up the race thing again…"

"Yeah, you're just going out with me to be racially diverse, huh?" She asks, smiling. "Wanna get some Mexican blood?"

He laughs. "You know that I'm Mexican, right?"

She frowns and lifts their intertwined hands up, frowning. "Yeah, I thought that you were too dark to be Caucasian…"

He stops and looks at her as the colors explode around her head, the destruction of a rainbow that is so intensely beautiful that it makes goosebumps arise on his arms (because destruction was not supposed to be beautiful, no it wasn't, it was supposed to be bloody and painful) and says, "You said that I was pulling the race card."

She smiles at him, showing crooked teeth and leans in close. "Yeah, well, I say a lot of things that I don't mean."

He pretends to look shocked. "There something that you want to tell me?"

"No," she says, smiling wickedly, "you just might have to figure it out yourself."

He kind of smiles weakly. "I'm not very good at puzzles, just to let you know."

Manuella's eyes gleam like dying stars. "Well, I'm not a very hard puzzle."

He laughs, easy and carefree. He feels like he's falling again, only this time it's not painful and kind of pleasant, like when he put his hand on the wrong part of the cord and got shocked and couldn't feel his arm for half an hour because it was a tingly-kind of numb.

He leans in close to her as he feels his heart beat in his ears, loud and deafening and he's sure that she can hear it too. "You saying that you're easy?"

Her eyes widen, looking briefly mad but she slowly smiles to show him that she's not mad. "You see, now that was hurtful. I'm not talking to you now." She pulls away her hand, crosses her arms, and turns toward the sunset. The angle makes a halo of colors around her head and it glows like something that might be forever mingled with confusion and a little hurt.

(He shuts his mind off again, because he's over analyzing things, and since when has he done that?)

He slips his arm around her waist, breathes, "What if I kiss you? That's not talking," against the shell of her ear and she full-body shudders, eyes darkening.

She turns her head towards him, eyes a little scared and a helluva lot hopeful. "I guess that would work," she breathes out.

He doesn't move, just to see what she will do. Her big brown eyes stare in to him, reaching in to his soul and stealing each piece of his heart with every passing second. He is just about to lean in when she puts her hands on his cheeks and kisses him hard.

She opens her mouth under him and although Carlos is shocked, it's not unwelcome and he slowly moves his mouth against hers, mind reeling and everything slowly fades away.

She drags her hands lower and bunches up the fabric of his shirt in her hands, holding on for dear life and she opens her mouth in a gasp as he traces his tongue along the lining of her lips, asking for entrance.

She presses forward and it takes him by surprise. He topples to the ground with Maneulla lying on top of him, burying her face in his shirt with a groan.

"That was embarrassing," she whispers, shaking her head. "First kiss and I knock the most amazing guy down on his ass."

"Hey," he says from below her, lifting her chin up. "I'm on my back, not my ass, thank you very much."

She laughs for a second before groaning again. "Oh Gawd, can we please not joke about this? This is kinda weird…."

"Yeah, I know," he says, laughing. She glares, eyes pressed into slits and he stops and presses his hand against her hair briefly. "But you're on top, so it's slightly less awkward for you."

She groans again, saying, "Shut up," before laughing. She lifts her head up. "I think that I should get back now. My parents are probably worried about me."

"Probably," he agrees.

It's silent for a second before Carlos says, "Uh… not that I don't like this, but could you get off me?"

"Shit," Manuella says, laughing nervously before getting up, lending him a hand.

He takes it gladly and refuses to let go as they walk away. He watches the colors dance around her head before he smiles and shakes his head.

---

Carlos feels his phone vibrating against his pocket so he picks it up, presses it to his ear and says, "Hello?" without even checking to see who it is.

"Dude, where are you?" Logan asks, a hint of panic in his voice. "You left like six hours ago and no one knows where you've been!"

Carlos laughs. "Calm down, I was just on a date."

It's silent for a second before Logan squeaks out, "A date?"

"Yeah," he says awkwardly, kicking a rock in the road. He tugs the collar of his jacket farther up his neck, shivering. He holds his phone clumisly in his hand, pressing it to his ear as he zips up his jacket. "I met a girl at some pizza place and we talked and stuff. It was actually kinda awesome."

Logan pauses for a second before saying, "That's it? No kiss?"

Carlos laughs for a second, the memory still fresh in his mind. "Yeah, she kissed me. She kind of caught me by surprise and I fell over on the boardwalk."

Logan laughs nervously, high-pitched. "Wow. How'd she take it?"

Carlos shrugs but then remembers that Logan can't see him. "She was embarrassed, duh. But it turned out okay, I guess. Better than I expected, considering that I had just come back from running."

He decides to leave out the part about his dream-thing, the voice in his head and seeing himself dead, floating in the water. He shivers and scolds himself for only bringing a thin jacket. The temperature is probably near thirty-five and he is freezing his ass off.

"Why did you go for a run? You left your helmet here, by the way."

Carlos chews on his lip and weighs the option of what to say in his head before deciding on saying, "I know."

"Why? You almost never go without it."

He sighs, swapping his phone to the other ear. "I just… I dunno. Today kind of freaked me out, I guess. I just kinda thought that the whole reason for wearing the helmet was so I didn't get hurt and I tend to do that a lot nowadays. It was pretty much to prevent me from screwing up all the time and I thought that if I didn't wear it, I wouldn't screw up. I was kind of tired of messing things up so I left the helmet at home."

As soon as he finishes, he realizes how stupid it sounds, even to his own ears, so he says, "Forget what I just said. I'm just rambling, I guess."

Logan's silent for a minute and Carlos can hear the sound of the tv going in the background and yelling. He chews on his lower lip and focuses on not stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk, even if it is a little juvenile but it keeps his mind off other things and that's all he can really ask for.

"No, I understand," Logan says, so quietly that he almost doesn't catch it. "Hey, guys, shut up!"

Carlos laughs a little and feels some of the tension in his shoulders and lower back start to fade away. "What was that?"

Carlos can hear the affectionate grin in Logan's voice as he says, "Kendall and James are playing Halo on the Xbox and right now it's in sudden death mode. They're screaming and jumping up and down and everything to see who'll win."

Carlos rolls his eyes. "Oh, remember the Halo wars in eighth grade?"

Logan groans. "Yeah, don't remind me. James ended up in the hospital with four stitches in his elbow and Mrs. Knight won't let us around the rolling pins anymore. Remember the sugar crash that happened afterwards?"

Carlos grins, streetlights illiminating the shadows on his face. Everything is kind of glowing in a crappy Hollywood horror movie sort of way. The streets are empty and the stores are all closed, letters falling off the signs and rubble and needles under his feet. He heads toward the other side of the sidewalk, where the railing is. He can look down and see the ocean reeling close and he shudders as he thinks back to that horrible voice and his body floating in the ocean. He shivers and tries to hide in his thin jacket.

"Hey, Carlos, you okay?"

Everything comes back in focus and he chokes out, "Yeah. Why?"

He can hear Logan frowning on the other end of the phone and it's silent in the background, all noises of violent video games and friends (--only they were boyfriends now, no longer just friends, and isn't that what started all of this?--) fading away like the words of an old newspaper.

"You just kind of spaced out there and I was worried that you hung up," Logan admits.

Carlos runs his tongue over his teeth before saying, "Did the Halo game stop?"

"No," Logan says. "I wish it did, though. I just walked into my bedroom. It's a lot more quiet in here."

And of course Logan Mitchell would have quiet in his room, where his books are lined up in alphabetical order and the drawers are labeled and his sheets are tucked into the corners of his bed. Everything is neat and tidy and has a certain, specific place. Everything is organized in little files and in order and there's no confusion about it.

It's the exact opposite way that Carlos Garcia's life is: messy and unorganized and confusing and so damn exhausting. He still is trying to figure out tomorrow, much less ten years from now. He's still clumisly finding himself instead of studying others.

"Carlos? Are you okay?"

Carlos sucks in a deep breath and says, "Yeah. Sorry. I guess that I just have a lot on my mind right now."

Logan asks, "Anything you want to talk about?"

Carlos almost spills everything at the raw vulnerability in his voice, his heart open on the line and waiting to comfort his friend.

Logan is a very tough person; he doesn't let many people in to see the real Logan Mitchell. He hides behind his math books and calculators and tells himself the periodic table of elements when he gets nervous. He has a bad habit of stuttering when he gets scared. Very few people know this awkward, terrified version of Logan. There are only three, in fact: James Diamond, Kendall Knight, and Carlos Garcia.

Out of everyone, Logan was closest to Carlos and vice versa. They hung out all the time and know just about everything about each other (_except for the most important things, _his mind whispers to him and he shushes it, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk). They had no problem with laying on each other and sleeping in the same bed and sharing the same clothes. They were like brothers.

(And that was the great thing about them; the four of them were best friends and were completely comfortable around each other. They could finish each other's sentences and usually, they didn't sleep in their own beds. They went for which ever room was closest or which room was open at the time. They could sit in each other's laps and not feel weird about it. They could change in front of each other and fall asleep on each other. Even if it wasn't supposed to happen between guys, it wasn't awkward or anything. It was just normal.)

Instead, Carlos hears the voice whisper in his head, _Go on, tell him. You know you want to._

He clamps his jaws shut and bites his lip until it bleeds before he says, "No. I think I'm going to crash in your room tonight, though."

He can hear Logan's unmasked confusion and fear in his voice as he asks, "Why? No one's in your room tonight."

He sucks in a breath through his teeth and says, "Yeah, but I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Okay," Logan says simply. There's something in his voice that Carlos can't quite name so he just shrugs his shoulders and writes it off as a bad cell phone connection.

He sees the edge of the Palm Woods Hotel from his view. It looks maybe about three miles away. He releases all the air in his lungs in a big _whoosh _noise and looks down at his worn-out tennis shoes. The knot in his back is killing him and he doesn't know if he can make it through town at this hour.

This is when the drug dealers and crack whores and rapists and murderers come out to play, smiling with seductive glass vials and white, crystal powders that can float you past the clouds before you crashland back to Earth with more problems than solutions. This is the hour in the night when they come out of their shells, faces twisted into horror-like carnival smirks as they glance around for prey to find and 'play' with, steal things that can never be taken back as they lock their horrid memories in the little boxes in their minds. This is when needles come out from their hiding places, locked up in the closets, and bonegirls dance in florescent lights, smiling with their wicked dead eyes, their worst enemy is the thing that keeps them alive. This is when the horrible part of LA, the dirty part of the city, comes out to play, stripping off the glamour and the glitzy mask it wears to show its true colors. This is when it's most deadly.

"Hey, is there any way that you can borrow Kendall's mom's car and pick me up? I'm about four miles away from the apartment and it's really risky to be out here at this time," he confesses, eyes watching as the city lights up with excitement.

"Yeah, where are you?"

Carlos glances around, seeing nothing but drawn out hills and deserted buildings, rubble and crushed dreams lying around his feet. He looks around for a street sign or something, but the only writing is graffitti on the walls made by kids who are just wanting to be known and feel important, mixed up in the wrong kinds of things. He briefly wonders if the kids who wrote that are in jail before he says, "I don't know."

He sits down on the curb, defeat in every bone and exhaustion weighing down his every muscle.

"Describe where you are for me," Logan says patiently.

Carlos glances around and explains where he is as best as he can. He reads off some of the signs, how far the city is, what the nearest building is and where he came from.

"I think I know where you are," Logan says. There's the sound of a car door slamming and the ignition on a car starting, roaring to life.

"How?" Carlos asks, glancing around. "For all I know, this could be the Boulevard of Broken Dreams."

He can hear Logan's nervous smile in his voice. "I memorized the twenty miles out of the city where we live. That way, if some idiot-" there's a teasing note in his voice now and there's the dull sound of a radio playing jazz music, "decides to get lost, I'd know where to get them."

He decides against aruging about being called an idiot for getting lost. He's stuck in godknowswhere and the last thing he needs is to upset the one person who knows where to find him.

"My knight in shining armor," he says finally. "I really owe you one."

"You can pay me back later," Logan says and there's that weird tone in his voice, something that Carlos can't identify. He lets it slide.

"How am I going to do that?" Carlos asks, kicking an abandoned needle out of the road.

"I'll find a way," Logan says. "I'll be there in about ten minutes. Try not to get killed, okay?"

Carlos shudders and frowns, pulling his jacket closer. "That's not funny."

"Sorry," Logan says solemnly. "It's kind of weird that you're the one telling me to be serious."

Carlos sighs. "I know. Look, I'm in the middle of godknowswhere, it's cold, and I just want to get home. And I'm hungry," he adds. "What do we got at the house?"

Logan laughs. "I don't know. We can stop by somewhere on the way back, okay?"

He perks up. "McDonald's?"

Logan laughs again. "Yeah, sure. Glad to hear that you're back to normal," he says.

"Yeah, I can never notthink about food for that long," he says. "And Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," he confesses. He blinks away the slight onset of tears. "I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes."

"I… You're welcome," he finally admits. "I'll be there in a few minutes, okay?"

"Alright," Carlos says, closing his eyes. He knows that he can't fall asleep in the ghetto of LA, because that would be downright stupid, so he gets up and jumps around, trying to get his nerves to calm down.

He closes his cell phone and slips it back into his pocket, eyes focused on the lights of the city, seeming to grin mockingly at him.

---

About fifteen minutes later, a car pulls up in front of Carlos, headlights shining in his face.

He blinks a few times and jumps out of his skin, his first thought being that it might be a murderer or a gang, mad that he's on their territory.

He jumps up to run before he hears Logan's voice say, "Sorry I'm so late. I got a little lost."

Carlos allows himself to breathe and laughs a little, hopping into the passenger seat. He sees Logan's face, covered in shadows except for the faint spots where the dull street lights hit his skin.

He leans over and gathers Logan in his arms, hugging him as hard as he can and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He presses another one against his forehead.

Logan laughs, saying, "Dude, stop!" He shoves Carlos away but his face is red from blushing. The color doesn't fade away until they pull up to McDonalds.

The ride to McDonalds is silent and mostly awkward, the jazz music being background noise. Carlos tries to block it out but it doesn't work. He leans his head against the passanger side window and closes his eyes.

He almost falls asleep to the gentle hum of the vehicle and Logan's soft humming until he hears his voice say, "What do you want?"

"What?" he asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Carlos looks around, confused, before seeing that they're at McDonalds. He laughs weakly and gives off his order of a chicken sandwich, two large french fries, a medium Coke, an ice cream sundae and two cookies.

"That lady probaly thinks that there's twelve people in this car," Logan says, laughing. He pulls out his wallet to pay but Carlos shakes his head and pulls out two twenty dollar bills out of his wallet.

"Here, I got it."

Logan protests but Carlos tells him simply, "Look, I want to pay, okay?"

Logan nods his head, mute. He drives the car towards the window and pays, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel while he waits for the food to arrive.

"Thanks," he tells the lady, taking a bite out of his Big Mac as they park on the side of the building.

The streetlights hit Logan's face and Carlos takes the time to observe his features in the dim light; the high cheekbones, dimples, long dark eyelashes, the curve of his lips, and the way his hair sticks up in the front.

"What?" Logan asks, staring straight ahead as he takes a sip of pop, "Do I have something on my face?"

Carlos looks down, face flaming. He feels a little ashamed to have been caught staring but he says, "Sorry. I'm just kind of zoning out now. How is the… situation at home?"

Logan's eyebrows draw in low and his eyes crinkle a bit at the corners from thinking. "What do you mean?"

He lets out the breath he's holding in his chest and rushes the words out. "Kendall and James and everything, how is it?"

"Oh," Logan says. His voice sounds very small, almost like a terrified little child. The streetlights make him look even more vulnerable and Carlos' heart breaks all over again. "It's… okay I guess."

He turns to look Carlos in the eye, suddenly turned into steel. His voice is hard as he asks, "Are you okay with it?"

Carlos can't take Logan looking at him like that, so defiant and reasoning and a little scared underneath it all so he looks away and shoves his hands in his pockets, putting his pop down in the cup holder. "Y-Yeah, I guess. I mean, it was kind of a shock. Did you know?"

Logan's cheeks blush dark red and he stutters out, "Y-Yeah, kinda. I mean, I had a guess but not really…"

He laughs bitterly. "So this is just a big of a shock to me as it is to you?"

He ignores the part of his brain whispering, _No, he knew, it was just you because you're so fucking stupid that you can't see anything._

Logan clicks his tongue and rubs the back of his hand across his eyes, sighing. He suddenly looks so much older than sixteen; he looks like a man worn away from troubles and his mind, controlling his body. His mind is what keeps him up late at night, over analyzing every little thing, telling him what he did wrong and what a screw up he is.

Carlos doesn't know how he stands it all the time, being locked up inside his brain with no key. He can only pound at the door again and again, praying that it'll open. He tries and tries but the key is held outside the door, a hopeless task that drains everything out of him.

He watches as Logan grips the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white and wonders if he chooses that, chooses to have what the teachers called 'an overactive imagination' and 'a gifted mind.' He wonders if maybe Logan was stuck with it, being locked up inside his own head with no means of escape. Everyone called it a gift, a wonderful thing. Maybe it was Hell though. Maybe he thought about wanting to just fall asleep and make the thoughts go away, put the brain waves of emotion and hatred on mute. But maybe he couldn't find the mute button.

Or maybe did he like it? Did he like being able to know stuff, to have the teachers' praise in school, having special classes? Did he enjoy being able to solve difficult puzzles and have everything in his life organized and know what the future was holding?

Did he like it?

Carlos opens his mouth to speak but Logan rushes the words out before he can say anything. "Are you okay with it?"

Carlos shuts his mouth so fast that his jaws crunch painfully and his mind reels, whiplash hitting him in the face.

How does he respond to that? Is he really okay with anything, having everything safe and sound about his life, being ripped from his fingertips and thrown into a world where he knows nothing and his life and his everything is just thrown into a twisted tunnel? He feels like he's spinning all the time and he doesn't have his feet on solid ground anymore, can't find the strength to stop circling. His mind circles in an opposite direction and sometimes he doesn't know how to stop it. How does it go away?

But before he can say anything again, Logan beats him to the punch. His eyes glitter like precious jewels and exploding stars, oh so beautiful as they die and self-destruct. (He doesn't know if he wants to self-destruct like that, have it a beautiful array of colors and lights, contradicting emotions and mind numbing thoughts. Maybe he doesn't want to self destruct at all, maybe he just wants stable ground to stand on.)

"Are you really okay with it? It doesn't change them or anything. They're still the same old James and Kendall who we were on the soccer team with, who stuck with us since fourth grade, who spent weekends at our house. They're still our friends, even if they…"

Carlos swallows painfully. "Even if they've left us behind."

Logan nods his head, turning towards him with shining eyes. "Yeah," he whispers out. His hands shake against his sides and Carlos suddenly wants to be the protector again.

"Hey," he breathes out, reaching over to Logan.

Logan coils back, turning in on himself as he looks at Carlos with beautiful tear filled eyes. His body trembles and shakes and Carlos swallows painfully, eyes filling with tears. He hopes that his eyes display the amount of hurt and confusion that his brain is s-s-spinning with, painfully slamming against his skull.

"W-What?" he asks, watching as Logan shakes.

Home sickness washes over him so thick that tears fill his eyes. He wants all the bright lights to fade away, all the fast food restaurants to dissapear into smoke. He wants to be back in his small town in Minnesota where everybody knows everybody.

"I-I-" Logan stutters pathetically.

It's staring to get hard to breathe so Carlos sucks in air through his teeth, watching as the lights of the city dance in front of him. His vision fades in and out.

He turns his head back towards Logan as his tears start to blur his vision. "What is so wrong with me? Why can't you have me touch you? Why does everyone hate me? Am I really that fucked up? Why?"

He turns away, suddenly angry at himself for being so weak before he sobs.

"Oh Carlos," Logan whispers sadly, reaching out and taking his sleeve.

He wants to yell at the other boy, scream at him not to touch him. He doesn't though, just submits as Logan gathers him in his arms, rubbing circles on his back.

"T-That's what he said, too," Carlos says, sobbing.

"That's what who said?" Logan asks, confused. His voice is thick and kind of far away.

Carlos doesn't answer, just sobs into Logan's shirt, fingers clutching on tightly to his fabric. This is the only thing in the world right now: Logan and him, sobbing his fears out to the only person he can trust. He would tell James, but he would look at him weird and Kendall would try to get revenge and make a plan.

He doesn't really know what Logan would do, but he's willing to take that chance. He shuts his eyes and puts blind faith in his best friend. He trembles at what he's about to say.

"M-My uncle," he breathes out. "My tiõ. Everything in his life was falling apart. His marriage was broken and his kids hated him. He kept getting drunk all the time and high and he was so _angry."_

Carlos picks his head up and stares straight in Logan's eyes. He sees a little understand and fear and most of all, pure and uninhibited love. It's the same kind that he saw in James' eyes when he was staring at Kendall, only this time they're not boyfriends. He doesn't even like guys that way-

He shuts down his brain for a second and just _breathes _calmly. He stares into Logan's eyes and refuses to fall into that dark hole again. He refuses to crash and fall and scrape his shins and be cut up and bruised up and fall into darkness. _He's gone and I refuse to let him control me anymore, _he tells himself.

"He would smack me around when he got pissed off all the time. He actually broke my bones a couple of times when he would be on meth," he admits. He tries to control his breathing. His hands shake against his side. "It was awful. I didn't tell anybody though."

He takes a deep breath and trembles under the stars and the streetlights and Logan's loving gaze (and the butterflies in his stomach awake a little at this thought). He stares into Logan's eyes, seeing happiness and his best friend and so many things that are wonderful and great and so many that are wrong. His breath shudders out of his chest and he shivers, running his tongue over his teeth.

"I just waited until the day he would finally get arrested or leave or something. Maybe even die, sometimes I wish that he would be dead so he'd finally leave me alone."

Carlos wipes at his eyes with his sleeve, cheeks flushing. He hates himself for being so weak; he hates his uncle even more.

"Finally, one day, he was high and driving. He hit a tree and he died on impact. It was almost painless. When I heard the news, I started crying. Not because I was sad though. I cried because I was so happy that he'd finally leave me alone, that he would stop. I thought that I could live fine now, that everything would suddenly disappear. I was wrong though. Scars fade with time and five years hasn't been enough apparently."

He watches as Logan's eyes fill with tears and he turns away, ashamed. He hears his uncle's voice in his head, laughing and high, floating high above the world as he turns to poppy plants and under-the-sink chemicals to take the pain away. _He's going to hate you now and think that you're weak and finally see how stupid you are, how much of a fuck-up you are. Isn't that wonderful? Next, he'll tell James and Kendall. They've already left you and their going to go away, fly off into the sunset once they realize how better off they are without you. You can't do anything right, can you?_

"Is that why you wear the helmet all the time?" Logan asks.

Carlos frowns at him, tears starting to dry up. "W-What?" he stutters pathetically.

"Why you started wearing the helmet in third grade, because of your uncle, that is. He-" Logan breaks off and his hands shake against his side again and he looks so terrified, face so young under the streetlights. Carlos can see every scar and every faded bruise in the light, the dark smears of purple under his eyes from his brain not allowing him to sleep.

"Yeah," Carlos chokes out, throat full of tears and regrets. "I would wear my helmet so I didn't get my brains smashed in while tiõ was hitting me. Sometimes, he would be so high that he didn't even notice the helmet and I would be perfectly fine. That was only if he was on some really good stuff, though."

His voice trembles and he stops, staring down at his hands. "There were some good times, too. He would take me to go see movies and get ice cream and go to the zoo and amusement parks and stuff. I usually… I try to forget about the good times. It's easier to think of him as some horrible alcoholic druggie who would beat me around all the time than just a man who fucked everything up and couldn't vent his feelings properly. It's a lot easier to hate him if I just focus on the n-negative."

He's fully sobbing now, little kid crying. He shakes like a leaf in a hurricane, fluttering high in the sky before crashlanding back down to Earth, painfully falling. He doesn't like falling; he wants stable land. He wants things to go back to the way they were before.

Carlos looks at Logan with wavering, scared little kid eyes. "I'm scared," he chokes out. "I know that I sound stupid, but I'm really scared. Everything is changing and just…"

He stops, no longer able to talk and sobs out his frustrations and fears with his best friend.

That look is back in Logan's eyes, the one that sends shivers down his spine and butterflies fluttering in his stomach. It's the same look that sometimes he used to see in Kendall's eyes while he would be looking at James, and James would have while he stared at Kendall. But that, there was no way that-

"Logan, can I ask you a question? You have to promise not to get mad," Carlos whispers, staring ahead at the windshield. He feels Logan shift and squeezes his eyes shut, praying to God that he doesn't get this wrong and ruin everything.

"Are you in the same situation as Kendall and James? Not the dating part, but k-kind of…" Carlos sighs, frustrated, before he decides _what the hell do I have to lose? _and asks, "Are you gay, too?"

He peers at Logan from his peripheral vision. His face is as white as a sheet, all color draining from his features. He sways in his seat, eyes wide and terrified for a second before he shudders, rolls the window down-

-and pukes all of the food out of his stomach on the ground, gagging violently. Carlos closes his ears, wincing, as all the food empties from his stomach. He dry heaves for a second before sucking in air like he's drowning.

"I-I'm sorry," Carlos says, shaking. "I was kind of curious, I'm sorry-"

Logan sits up, eyes wide and interrupts, "How did you know? Do you- do you hate me?"

Carlos swallows painfully, taking a deep breath. He weighs the options in his head before finally saying, "I could never hate you. Never. You're my best friend. I just don't understand why you didn't tell me."

Logan looks him straight in the eye and says with a stiff voice, "You didn't tell me about your uncle and I didn't tell you that I was gay. It's all out in the open now, I guess."

Carlos stutters, "Yeah, b-but that was different-"

"Oh?" Logan raises his eyebrows. "Was it really all that different?"

Carlos shuts his mouth again, staring out the window. "Can we go home, please? It's almost midnight and I'm tired."

Logan nods, pressing his lips into a thin white line as he backs up the car and turns onto the freeway. He flips the radio on and they listen to a Justin Timberlake and a Lady Gaga song before the silence drives him crazy.

Carlos flips the radio off and asks, "Are you going to tell anyone?"

Logan's hands tighten around the steering wheel and he says, "About me or your uncle?"

He thinks for a second. "Either."

Hurt flashes across Logan's face for a second before it smoothes into annoyance and faked sleepiness. "No, I'm not. We're best friends. I thought that this could stay between us."

Carlos nods and turns toward the window, watching as the city dissolves and dances in front of his eyes. He suddenly thinks of the myth of the phoenix that his grandmother told him about, when she was still alive. A beautiful bird that died and rose from its own ashes; created from its own destruction.

Carlos chews on his lower lip, aware of the miles of silence between them even if there is only about a foot between them physically.

"Thank you," he whispers softly.

Logan glances at him briefly. "For what?"

Carlos studies his face for a second before answering, "For listening, for picking me up tonight, for being my best friend. For everything."

A ghost of a smile touches the corners of his lips before fading away so fast that Carlos briefly wonders if it was even there or maybe it was just a trick of the streetlights.

He turns back towards the window, watching as the Palm Woods Hotel comes closer and closer. As they pass it and head home, he hears Logan whisper, "You're welcome."

---

Logan holds the door open for Carlos, his mouth drawn in a gentle smile. He's looking at him like he's the most important thing and the world and Carlos swallows down tears.

He ducks under Logan's arm and heads into the apartment. Their footsteps echo. He can hear his hearbeat reverberate in every step his take and his mouth feels dry-- _and this is what it should feel like to be with a girl, _his mind whispers and the room spins before he tells it to _shut up, shut up shut up shutupshutup!_

He stares at the couch and the tv; thin strips of light hit them in vertical stripes of yellow and dirty shades of white. He can see the faint outline of the moon shining through the clouds outside.

It's almost surreal, this room. He's taken back to tales of fairies, stories woven of princesses and castles and knights in shining armor. He suddenly wishes for a princess to be able to save instead of being the one saved. He's a man. He's supposed to do the saving, not the other way around.

His throat feels tight and he swallows, brushing his fingers against the wall. He can feel Logan's fingers against the small of his back. Heat circuits from Logan's fingers to the fabric of his shirt and his skin. He shudders, watching as Logan's room nears closer.

He peers around and sees dark walls, and brief flickers of the stars from the windows. He sees closed doors, hushquiet rooms where secrets are kept and lives are hidden from the rest of the world. This is where people do things in secret. It's all lies and he's about to be dragged into it, weave a new lie and spin a web of deciet and hiding around. That is, if this goes the way that he thinks it will.

The doorknob feels cold to his touch and Carlos opens the door, shuddering. He can feel Logan right behind him, his breath hitting his neck. He swallows thickly and opens the door, stepping into a room that smells of cologne and old books, knowledge locked up inside his head and certainty.

He brushes his fingers against the wall, feather-soft, before he hears Logan whisper, "No, keep it off," against the shell of his ear.

Images and memories of Manuella and her pretty smile and her long hair, uncertain gestures and awkward touches wash over him. Guilt floods his chest and he closes his eyes and tries his hardest to will away the images.

_Nothing is going to happen, _he tells himself. He can't help but think that it sounds like an excuse to Manuella and maybe even to himself. He doesn't two-time. _But you have to be involved with somebody to two-time them, _he thinks, feeling Logan's fingers brush his palm, _and right now, I'm not with either of them._

Carlos tries to push down the panic and terror as he hears his dead uncle's voice whisper, _you're going down the same path as me, Carlos, my boy!_

_No, _he whispers, terrified. He refuses to go that way. _I'm better than that. If things come to that, then I'll pick only one person. I won't break both their hearts. I'd rather have one hate me than both of them love me._

"Hey," Logan whispers as he leads them both to the bed. "Stop it."

"What?" he breathes out, feeling a little insecure and a lot terrified. He tells himself that it's courage he's feeling instead of fear as he grips Logan's hand in his, covering his palm. He feels Logan squeeze his fingers and smiles in the darkness.

"You're thinking too much, stop it. This isn't about thinking, it's about feeling." Logan's voice trembles.

"It's kind of ironic, how you're telling me to stop thinking," Carlos says.

"I know," Logan says, smiling. His teeth glitter in the darkness and they stumble to the bed, both fearful and lonely and a little confused.

"What are we-" Carlos stops, chewing on his bottom lip. He feels Logan hand slide up his neck and hold his face in his hands. His hands shake.

"I have no idea," Logan whispers.

"We'll just have to figure it out," Carlos says, taking the reigns for once. He leans his forehead against Logan's and feels his heart poundpoundpound in his chest. "H-How do you feel about me?" he whispers, shutting his eyes.

Logan's fingers brush against the back of his neck and he shudders. _Nobody should have this kind of power over me, _he thinks, parting his lips as Logan trails his fingers down his back. _No one should have the power to make me shudder and break my heart. It's insane how much control he has over me._

"I-" Logan starts. He catches his breath as he bunches Carlos' shirt in his fingers. He lays his other hand against Carlos' thigh, fingers brushing against his jeans and to his skin. He shudders, goosebumps rising on his arms.

"I need to know," Carlos whispers. He opens his eyes and stares into Logan's brown ones, looking back at him with something akin to love. His heart pounds again. "I have to, please."

Logan licks his lips and whispers, "I love you. I have since I was about thirteen. I know you don't feel the same, but I don't care. I just want to be your best friend and protect you from everything, keep you safe. Make sure that no one hurts you."

Carlos laughs lowly, peering at Logan through his eyelashes. He traces his fingers against the hem of Logan's jeans and is rewarded with a low sigh and a soft shudder. "I thought that I was always the one protecting you," he admits. "But I guess it was kind of the other way, huh?"

"Yeah," Logan whispers. He leans in close and breathes a kiss against Carlos' forehead, oh-so-soft and sweetly and Carlos' heart breaks. He shuts his eyes and holds Logan's hand in his.

"I'm sorry," he nearly sobs out, chest heaving.

"For what?" Carlos can hear the confusion in his voice and whispers out, "For everything."

He leans in closer to Logan, closes his eyes, and presses their lips together.

If Carlos had expectations about how kissing was supposed to be, this definetly wasn't it. This was sweet and soft and a little wet but perfect. It wasn't with a hot California beach-bomb, but with Logan, his best friend.

He sighs gently, parting his lips. Logan's tongue brushes against his lips, asking for entrance and Carlos complies.

They pull away after a moment and Carlos is glad to see Logan's cheeks flushed red. He's blushing. Carlos Garcia made Logan Mitchell blush by kissing him.

Carlos laughs, low and sweet like sugar and honey and cherries dipped in chocolate. He brushes his fingers against Logan's shirt, slipping off the first button. The second follows and so does the third. His hands shake so bad that he can't get past the fourth one and Logan laughs silently, slipping off the buttons of his shirt. It slips off his shoulders and falls to the ground.

"I like it," Carlos whispers as Logan lifts his arms up, sliding his shirt off his back. He shudders as cold air hits his skin.

"Like what? Being naked or me having my shirt off?"

Carlos smiles at him, brushing his fingers against Logan's stomach. He's rewarded with a low moan and a slight shiver. Logan's hand comes to rest on his, pressing his hand into warm skin.

"Both," he admits. "But I'm talking about having clothes on your floor." Logan looks at him a little oddly so he continues. "I mean, your room is always so neat and clean and everything has its place and now it's kind of messy and unorganized and a little chaotic. I like it."

Logan kisses him again, wiggling until they're both against the headboard. "Trust me," he says, laughing a little nervously, "This is the most chaotic and confusing and terrifying time of my life. I finally get everything I wanted and now… Well, I'm kind of scared that I'm going to lose it all and get left behind."

Carlos frowns, pulling the sheets up. He wiggles out of his jeans and tosses them to the floor, in nothing but his boxers and says, "Kind of like how James and Kendall left us behind."

"Yeah," Logan whispers, cheeks flushing red. He buries his face in the pillow to hide his flaming face but Carlos laughs and drags him away, fingers hesitating on the button of his jeans.

Logan moans and his lips part. He shivers and knocks Carlos' hand away, saying, "If you don't wanna deal with a certain 'problem' tonight, than I suggest that you get your hand off and we go to sleep."

Carlos smiles. "What kind of 'problem?'"

Logan hums, sliding off his jeans. "The same kind that James and Kendall had to fix last night."

"Ew," he says, laughing. He glances around the dark room. It's quiet and a little peaceful and they have it to themselves and that's how he likes it. He briefly wonders if that's how Kendall and James feel sometimes but knocks the thought away. The thought of two of his best friends dealing with a certain 'problem' was not something that he particularly wanted to deal with. "I could have gone my whole life without knowing that."

"I just thought that one of them was-" Logan stops and red crawls up his cheeks.

"Jerking off," Carlos finishes, laughing as Logan looks embarrassed. "Yeah, that's what I would have assumed. But it's still gross."

"Yeah," Logan hums, sliding under the sheets. He nestles up to Carlos and slides his arm around his waist, fingers lingering on the small of his back. Carlos shudders again. "But now, I think it might be them who's left behind."

Carlos doesn't say anything, only closes his eyes and tries to get his whirl-wind of a mind to calm down and just fall asleep. He can feel old fears and new emotions rush to the surface of his skin and he simply shakes his head, gives Logan a kiss, and attempts to fall asleep.

He is almost asleep when he hears Logan whisper, "I love you," and press a kiss to his forehead. He sobs silently against Logan's neck, sure that he can't hear.

---

It's four days later, after the whole 'bad boy' thing has passed and they're all laying on the couch, watching some stupid French soap opera.

"I don't understand," Logan says, pointing to the screen. He shifts, moving Carlos' head off his chest and Carlos glares. He smiles apologetically "I mean, okay, I understand that Rhonda and Joseph were going out, but now that she dumped him for Louis, where does Michael play a role in this? Does he come after or before the death of Shiela?"

Carlos says, "Yeah, I don't understand it either. Probably because it's in _French. _Why are we even watching this?"

James shrugs. "I d'know, thought it looked interesting. Now my brain hurts," he says, rubbing his head.

"Anyone want to watch hockey?" Kendall asks, digging around for the remote. "Where is the flipping remote at?"

Carlos shifts, sitting up. He pulls it from under his butt. "That explains why it was so uncomfortable…"

Kendall snatches it up, rolling his eyes. "Now the remote has your butt germs all over it. Thanks."

Carlos flashes him a smile, saying, "No problem, I do what I can," before laying back down on Logan's chest.

The couch is pulled out into the bed, which they had to learn the hard way. (Apparently, it can be pulled out in one of those sofa-bed things, which they discovered today while trying to find the remote and Carlos pulled some spring and it popped out half way. He got his head stuck and the next half an hour involved getting him out and getting sheets and blankets on the bed.)

They're all curled up on the bed, all practically laying on each other. James has his head against Kendall's chest, legs intertwined with Carlos. Logan has his head on Kendall's arm and Carlos is nestled against his chest. They're all comfortable and not in an awkward kind of way either.

Carlos hears Mrs. Knight voice in his head, whispering, _Isn't it a little… um, weird for you guys to be this close? Usually guys aren't all touch-y feel-y…._

They had all laughed and said that they were best friends, and if girls could kiss each other on the cheek and lay in bed together and get changed together, why couldn't they?

Kendall flips it to ESPN, where a baseball game is going on.

"Change it!" James yells, reaching for the remote.

Kendall bats his hand away, saying, "No, I want to see this for a second-"

"-and that second will span until the end of the game and then you'll want to see another game and we'll be here the whole day," James finishes.

Kendall glares, "No, I won't."

James rolls his eyes, yelling, "Ow!" as Kendall flicks him on the forehead.

Carlos rolls his eyes, laughing a little. He taps Logan's hand with his, feeling him smile against his hair.

Carlos turns his head a little to the side, glancing at Kendall and James from the corner of his eye. James is pouting a little, rubbing at his head. He's surprised (--and he quickly smoothes his face off into boredom as he pretends to watch the stupid baseball game--) to see Kendall press a kiss to James' head, the exact spot where he flicked his head. James' face beams and after glancing around to see Logan and Carlos absored into the show, he holds Kendall's hand in his discreetly.

"You're not watching the game either, are you?" Logan whispers against his ear, breath hitting the back of his neck.

Carlos shudders and leans up a little to whisper, "No, I'm pretending to though. Let's have a little fun with this, huh?"

Carlos hits Logan on the knee as he barely contains his laughter. He grins a little, shining white teeth and Carlos' heart pounds and settles into his stomach. He can't breathe suddenly and he chokes out a few mumbled fragments, syllables that don't quite form words.

He doesn't know if he can exactly express in vowels and consonants-- simple letters that form worlds of possibilites for terms, all in different tongues-- what this moment is like for him. It's a twisted dance and he's off beat and his rhythm is off horribly.

It's just the four of them, like always; it's four teenage boys against the world, holding on to each other tightly just as some people hold onto their sanity in some situations. They hold onto each other with everything they've got and everything they have. Because if they're by themselves, than the world is a mass of confusing faces and horrible paths and a mess of things that can wrong.

But them, the four of them-- Kendall and James and Logan and Carlos-- they're _right. _Maybe that's why they've lasted so long. They fit like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and when they're together, they suddenly make sense.

All of the sudden, they matter and they're not screw-ups together.

They are no longer just that blond-haired boy who dreams of ice-hockey rinks and who has a lonely, terrified little sister and a mom who cries herself to sleep every night because she misses her dead husband. He is no longer just the boy who got into too much trouble as a kid, the one who dreams of being able to plan things, not just simple pranks.

They are no longer the beautiful brunet boy who longs for acception, dreams of the day that his father will finally not view him as a disgrace. He dreams of flashing lights and open stages and CD records, the world finally accepting and admiting that he is _someone._

They are no longer the little smart kid, the one who got teased endlessly as a little kid who can still hear the arguing and screaming and see the flashing cherry lights of the police cars when his dad just finally _snapped _and things got carried away. He is no longer the boy who has nightmares of broken glass and blood.

They are no longer that stupid Mexican boy, the one who carries the helmet on his head to protect against the bruises and the humor façade around him to protect against the secret that no one can see and it eats at him everyday that he lies. He is no longer just the boy who covers everything in smiles and dreams of being able to change the world and not lie and just be _himself._

Apart, they are all broken teenage boys who have cracked interiors, spiderwebs of dents and secrets and yelling and haunted memories.

But together, they are a group of best friends who know everything (--or just about everything about each other--) and love each other more than anything else in the world (--and some love more than others, although they will never admit it--) who will cross oceans for each other.

Together, they are actually important, not just adrift at a sea of pain and hatred.

Carlos swallows painfully as he feels Logan tangle his fingers in his hair, gently pulling at his scalp. He snaps his head forward a little, suddenly being brought back to the real world and he licks his lips, mind spinning for a second.

He feels Logan tapping his fingers against his knee and Carlos looks around the room, suddenly reminded of where he is.

Gawd, he hates this. These random times that his mind decides to drift off and all of the sudden, when he's snapped back to reality, he panics because he doesn't know where he is. The other guys just write it off as Carlos being Carlos, when in reality, he doesn't know who this person is, this one who thinks everything over twice and it drives him crazy.

Where is the person that he thought he was six months ago? Where is the Carlos Garcia that he knows, the one who carries a helmet and laughter in his eyes? Why did he suddenly die?

He swallows tears down and a frustrated scream and just settles back into Logan's arms. He wraps his best friends' arms around his shoulders, leans his head back against his neck, and breathes a kiss against his palm, whispering, "I love you."

He can see Logan's panicked look and refuses to meet Kendall's and James' questioning eyes, telling himself, _I just told Logan that I love him, fuck the consequences._

He screws his eyes shut and counts to ten in a hushed, frantic whisper and when he's done, he opens his eyes and jumps up, untangling himself from his best friends and cuts off his ties with his whole fucking world.

He leans over, presses a kiss against Logan's head and whispers, "I love you," before he rushes outside, slipping on his shoes. He throws on his jacket and grabs his cell phone and keys and ignores the calling of the guys, ignores the yelling and questions in their voices and the confusion in their eyes and he just opens the door and runs.

He presses his helmet on his head _(because he's such a fuck-up) _and runs to the one place that he knows he shouldn't go.

_Fuck the consequences…_

---

"_I live my life by the moon,  
__If it's high, play it low  
__If it's harvest go slow,  
__And if it's full then go  
__But after midnight, morning will come  
__And that day will see if you're going to get some"_

_- "Turn Off The Light"  
__by Nelly Furtado_

_---_

As soon as he's out the door, he's running and sweating and damnit, he's c_rying _so hard that he can't see straight.

He doesn't exactly know why he's crying but it feels like it's never going to stop, the water is just turned on and he's broken the off-switch. He doesn't know if that is a particularly bad thing, just that he's sobbing like a little kid.

_Please, tiõ, stop! _he hears in his mind, his little eight-year-old self sobbing and screaming as the hits rain on him. He can feel the faded bruises and he can feel the water burning his skin as he sat in the shower, sobbing, scrubbing away his skin and making the cuts and bruises bleed because maybe if he scrubbed off his skin, then maybe everybody would stop hating him so much. Maybe tiõ would be happier again, like in his fleeting memories of _before. _

Before everything went to Hell, his tiõ was a man who was smiling with friendly brown eyes and a heart full of love. His wife and his three kids were everything to him and he was like a second father to Carlos.

Then, everything fell apart and shattered and Carlos' life went to fucking Hell.

He shudders and when he looks up, he can see the thunder clouds rolling in, dark bunches of color in the sky.

It starts to rain and then all the few people in the streets head into warm, dry places.

Carlos takes in a deep breath and sobs, screaming into the sky. He shakes and shudders like a leaf in the wind. He stands in the rain for so long, shivering, that he doesn't know where his tears end and the rain begins and maybe that's what he fucking deserves.

There's no way that the universe could just make these bad things happen if it wasn't for a reason. Maybe he really is a horrible person who deserves to die. Maybe tiõ's right: maybe he brings pain to all those he loves.

He chews on his lower lip as he hears thunder in the background and his world lights up white for a second as a beautiful beam of lightning strikes the Earth for a second.

He can see a far off tree fall and crash to the ground, smashing down a fancy house and he shudders again. Maybe he was made to self-destruct. Only, his won't be beautiful. His self-destruction will be bloody and deadly and so fucking horrible that everyone will know that he is a fuck-up and that he deserves whatever he gets.

He'll just hurt those who he loves, those amazing people in his life that he would be lost without.

Carlos shuts his eyes and sees faces dance behind his eyelids; James, singing a little off-key and laughing, talking on the phone for hours because his dad was home drunk again and he threw a beer bottle at the wall. He would be sobbing and sounding so fucking scared that Carlos would tell him jokes into the early a.m. until he fell asleep.

He sees Kendall's face, eyes glinting as he has an idea forming in his head. He sees Kendall carrying him in his arms for a mile to his house after he broke his arm when he fell out of the treehouse. He sees Kendall on the ice-rink and him holding Logan after the _incident _happened.

And then Carlos sees Logan and he starts sobbing so hard that he can't breathe and the world spins. He sees Logan as he leans over him to help Carlos with his math homework; he sees Logan and him curled up in a bed after the _incident._

He sees the flashing cherry and blue lights reflecting in Logan's eyes as he sees his mother being taken in a stretcher, his dad in handcuffs as the window lies shattered and blood pools on the ground. He sees Logan sobbing and crying for hours, mumbling as he has nightmares that night (and for years after). Carlos sees James and Kendall and Logan and him all lying on a bed after Logan had woken up from a nightmare, each of them taking turns watching over him to wake him from a nightmare.

How could he be allowed to hurt these people? How could he destroy these wonderful, beautiful boys and injure them?

The simple answer: he couldn't.

It would be bad enough to injure himself and self-destruct. He couldn't drag his best friends down with him.

Carlos blows his hair out of his face as the rain pounds down so hard that he can barely see and lights come up in the distance and he clutches his stomach.

_It's almost here, _he tells himself. _Soon, I'll be out of everyone's hair and they can live happily ever after._

He knocks on the door and sees Manuella open the door, eyebrows drawn low in confusion before she rushes off to get a towel. He steps inside the house before saying a silent prayer in his head:

_I'm sorry James and Kendall. I'm sorry that I didn't support you and that I wasn't enough. Most of all, I'm sorry Logan, for not being what you need. I'm sorry. I love you._

---

Carlos is dressed in a pair of sweat pants and an old t-shirt. His tears are all dried up and all of the sudden he just feels numb. The anger and the fear and the hatred and the love have all evaporated from his chest and he's full of just emptiness. He shudders.

Manuella is looking at him with sad eyes and he crushes their lips together and dances his fingers against her neck. She shudders and reaches below his shirt to drag her nails across his skin.

He doesn't shiver or shake or feel anything. All he can see is Logan's face in his mind, lips parted in a gasp and looking at him through his eyelashes in pure lust.

He shudders and all of the sudden he's desperate to make these feelings go away. He wants to be normal again, drool over girls like a puppy dog and be able to hang out with his best friends and be laughing and joking and carefree.

He slides his hand along her back until he slips his trembling fingers over the straps of her bra. She moans and trails her fingers against the hem of his sweatpants.

Carlos sees Logan's face in his mind and he sobs into Manuella's mouth, shaking again. He hates who he is and no matter how hard he tries, he can't get things back to normal. LA changes people for the worse, he thinks as he holds Manuella's arms tight. She struggles a little before submitting.

Tears cling to her eyelashes stubbornly and she shakes in his hands. She pulls her mouth away and asks, "What's wrong?" so softly that his heart breaks.

He's suddenly reminded of how Logan had kissed his forehead so gently and said 'I love you' like it was the most important phrase in the world, how he had looked at him with all the love in the world. Him, Carlos, the fucked up one who had been beaten as a kid and who was failing math and couldn't talk to girls and fucked things up…

Now, he really fucked things up and Manuella's looking at him the wrong way, pure lust and no love, and this is not how it's supposed to be.

He sobs into her mouth, wrapping her up in his arms. He trembles like he's close to the edge of breaking, and he is so close that he can feel the threads slowly breaking and cracking and he's holding on for dear life.

Only, he should be with Logan right now, Logan who loves him and protects him and cares about him.

"I'm sorry," he sobs again and again.

Manuella shushes him and holds him against her chest, whispering things in his ear. She looks down at him with shining eyes and asks, "We were never meant to work, were we?"

He sobs and says, "I'm sorry," again.

"No, it's okay," she shushes him. Her eyes glitter painful vulnerability and she licks her lips, chest quivering. "We tried our hardest at least," she whispers.

She finally lets her tears fall from her long eyelashes and Carlos whispers, "I'm sorry," again before she starts sobbing along with him.

His chest shatters again and he's so close to the breaking point that he doesn't know what to do. "I'm sorry, I never wanted to hurt you."

"No," she says, smiling sadly. "I hurt you too. I was t-trying to get over someone and I dragged you into it."

He looks at her with dying stars eyes and self-destruction features and asks, "You too?"

She laughs sadly. "Yeah, I guess we were just trying our hardest to make something work that was destined to fail. W-Who were you trying to forget?"

For a second, Carlos thinks that this isn't the greatest idea. He really shouldn't tell her but then she gives him a quick kiss on the top of his head and he spills everything.

He tells her about finding out about James and Kendall, about Wayne-Wayne and about meeting her, how she was so beautiful and wonderful (and she smiles sadly at that and gives him a kiss on the forehead, whispering, "You are so fucking sweet, baby boy") and how he so wanted things to work. He tells her about calling Logan and about what happened when he was little; how his dad snapped and threw his mom out a glass window and he's in jail now and she's such a frail little terrified woman who has nothing to live for anymore. He tells her about finding out that Logan was gay, about their conversation in the car.

He stumbles over his words as he tells her about his tiõ, the man who turned to drugs and alcohol to dull the ache. He tells her about the time in Logan's bedroom, how Logan was so gentle and sweet with him. He tells her about the four days during the whole 'bad boy' thing, how him and Logan shared gentle kisses and a few make out sessions and many 'I love yous.' He tells her about them laying on the couch and how he feels like he's drowning and that he doesn't know who he is anymore.

All he knows is that his name is Caros Garcia, he's sixteen years old and a sophmore and that his best friends are his world: James, Kendall, and Logan. He knows that Logan is the most important person in his world and he loves him to death and how Manuella is so fucking sweet, how he wishes that things would work.

She listens though his mumbling patiently, giving him sweet kisses on the head and shedding a few tears. "It's alright," she whispers. "W-We weren't right for each other, that's all."

He looks at her with red-rimmed eyes and asks, "Who were you trying to forget?"

Manuella laughs lowly, a little nervous and terrified bark of laughter. She licks her lips and shifts so that she's lying against the headboard of her bed. She pulls Carlos next to her and intertwines their hands together and presses a kiss to his palm and whispers out, "His name was Mike."

She tells him about how he was her best friend. His name was Michael Lewis and he was the most wonderful boy in the world ("Except for you, baby boy," she whispers, looking at him with shining brown eyes). He had blue eyes and dark blonde hair and he was on the football team. He was so funny and sweet and had the most amazing laugh. He was a wonderful person, she said.

"I was so fucking terrified that he would deny me," she whispers out sadly. "I couldn't risk us losing our friendship just because I was beings selfish and wanted more than he was willing to offer me. He gave me his heart. I just wanted all of it."

She wipes at her eyes and shivers as the air conditioner kicks on, licking her lips a little nervously. "I'm just lucky that my parents live in a different house than me or I would so be screwed right now."

Carlos laughs a little, allowing himself to flash a weak smile. "They don't live with you?"

Manuella smiles back at him, showing crooked teeth. She pushes a strand of his hair out of his eyes and says, "No, they don't. I live with my older sister." She pauses. "You should smile more often. Your smile could make anyone fall in love with you."

"Even you?" he asks, giving her a slow, weak smile. It slowly turns into a million-watt grin, the kind that makes girls go wild and swoon over him.

"Yeah, even me," she admits, grinning back at him. "I fell for your smile when I first saw you. The fact that you were all sweaty helped your case too." She pauses, chewing on her lower lip nervously. "I think that you should tell Logan what you feel for him. You're a wonderful person. He'd be stupid for not loving you."

Carlos smiles at her and leans up to tuck a strand of charcoal-colored hair behind her ear. His fingers linger on her cheeks and he says, with as much compassion as he can, "You should tell Mike too. He won't wait forever and he'd be stupid not to love a beautiful girl like you."She shakes her head, smiling weakly. Red flushes up her cheeks. "God, if only you weren't gay…"

He frowns and shakes his head. "I'm not gay. I just…fell in love with a boy. That doesn't make me gay, does it?"

Manuella laughs a little and shakes her head, hair flying. "No, it doesn't. Love works in mysterious ways, I guess." She gives him a quick kiss on the top of his head, saying, "I know this sounds stupid, but I'm glad that things worked out like they did. Sure, we crashed and burned, but this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

Carlos smiles at her and says, "I guess that I should get going. I need to go talk to Logan."

She smiles at him and he knows that if he hadn't fallen for Logan first, he could easily love this beautiful girl. "I'll see you later. The second after you talk to him, I want you to call me."

She leans over and grabs a pen off her desk, scribbling down a number on his arm. "If that doesn't work, you know where to find me. I'm going to go call Mike the second that you're out the door, so wish me luck."

He gives her a quick kiss on the top of the head, saying, "You don't need luck. He's stupid to deny you. And Manuella?"

"Yeah?"

He leans in her doorway, looking at her. Manuella's hair is a little flat and her eyes are red-rimmed. The lights make the bruises under her eyes visible and she's sitting in nothing but a tank top and shorts and Carlos' heart pounds at the sight of her. Because even if she is amazing, there is still someone else who is more right for him, someone more beautiful and wonderful. His name is Logan Mitchell and Carlos smiles at just the thought of him.

"Thank you," he says, fingers lingering on the door frame.

She shakes her head, saying, "No need to thank me, you freak! Now go out there, baby boy, and go talk to your man, tell him how much you love him."

Carlos opens his mouth to protest but she shakes her head and yells, "Now! Go! Don't waste time!"

He laughs and shuts her door, heading to the front door. He has to make things right.

_I refuse to screw things up anymore, _he whispers to himself as he passes into the cold night air, shivering. He looks up at the moon and says a silent prayer, whispering, "Here goes nothing."

---

The apartment is hushquiet when he enters. The door shuts quietly and echoes through out the room and Carlos tiptoes inside, his heart p-pounding in his ears. He can feel his blood rushing through his ears as he slides into the all-too-familiar room.

"Logan," he whispers out. "Where are you? I-I need to talk to you."

All the built up confidence shatters when he sees Logan curled up in bed, eyes shut tight and fingers clutching the sheets in a death grip. His face is pale and he's twitching, limbs spazzing out and his breathing quickens for a second before his eyebrows draw low and his lips part. He looks in pain and sweat glistens on his forehead. He takes in a deep breath.

_He's having a nightmare, _Carlos thinks, watching Logan twitch in his sleep for a second. _Gawd, he's probably thinking about his mom and his dad…_

He finally gets to the point where his limbs are not filled with lead and he leans over and whispers in Logan's ear, "Hey, wake up."

Logan's eyelids twitch and his body curls up. He whimpers and his hands shake and Carlos' heart shatters into a thousand pieces and he can't breathe properly.

He can't get Logan up so he does the only thing he knows to do to wake him up. He leans over and presses his lips against Logan's in a gentle kiss. He massages Logan's lips with his, trailing the tip of his tongue against the seam of Logan's mouth. He shudders and allows Carlos entrance, whimpering low in the back of his throat.

"Wake up," he whispers as they part. He places his hands on Logan's neck and feels him shudder against him, lips parting. "Wake up, baby."

He kisses him again, as sweetly as he can and Logan's eyes flutter open weakly.

Carlos pulls away and smiles weakly, his vocal cords a heavy block in his throat. "H-Hi," he says simply.

Logan just stares at him, eyes hard and face blank.

Carlos swallows thickly and breathes out, "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I freaked out and panicked and I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking but I went out and had a talk with Manuella-"

"The girl that you were on a date with a couple days ago?" Logan questions, sitting up in his bed. The sheets slide off him. He's only in a pair of boxer shorts and Carlos averts his eyes, feeling his face heat up. He swallows thickly and nods his head 'yes.'

"I went running," he says softly, eyes looking out the window. The moon streams in between the curtains in thin stripes of white light. "I ended up at her house and we k-kissed for a while."

He pretends not to notice the hurt look cross Logan's face and twists his hands together. He takes a deep breath and focuses on forcing the words out of his throat. "We realized that things weren't going to work out. We were just destined to fail, I guess.

"Anyways, we talked and it turns out that we were just using each other to try to ignore feelings about other people. It turns out that she's in love with her best friend, just like me. She was too scared to do anything and I was too scared to admit anything. She promised to talk to Mike- that's the guy's name, Mike- if I talked to you."

Carlos looks Logan in the eye, his brown eyes glittering like precious stones that are about to be set on fire. "Look, everything is so fucking confusing and I don't know who I am anymore. All I know is that my name is Carlos Garcia, I come from a small town in Minnesota and I'm sixteen. I'm a sophmore in school and my best friends are Kendall, James, and Logan. I was a-abused as a kid but that's over and done with and I'm going to move on from it. I've accepted it. I also know that I love you. Wait, no, I don't love you."

Carlos ignores the tears shining in Logan's eyes and whispers out, "No, I don't love you. I'm madly, insanely in love with you. It terrifies the hell out of me. But no more running. I love you, just like James and Kendall love each other and I just hope that you can forgive me and that you feel the same. I'm tired of living in fear."

He looks at Logan, waiting for a response. Logan swallows thickly and breathes out, "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry Carlos."

All the air is knocked out of his lungs and he can't breathe and the world spins.

_Well, it was worth a shot, _he thinks. _At least he knows how I feel, even if he doesn't feel the same way. _

"I'm sorry that it took you this long to figure this out. I love you too, Carlos. I love you more than you can ever imagine, more than you can ever dream of."

Carlos' eyes are wide and a little shocked and he tries to take second to get his mind to understand what's going on before Logan wraps his arms around his neck and kisses him as hard as he can.

_Does he know who I've been kissing tonight? _he thinks, holding onto Logan for dear life. _Can he taste Manuella on my tongue, feel my fear and anger and the secrets buried beneath my skin?_

He shuts down his mind and holds onto Logan as he drowns in passion and love and security as the moon filters through the windows.

---

When Carlos wakes up the next morning, Logan is wrapped around him like a blanket and heat radiates off him. He glances around at the amount of clothes on the floor and blushes cherry red at the thought of last nights 'activities.'

He leans over, kissing Logan a quick kiss on the cheek, and grabs his cell phone. He checks his messages, grinning.

**Manuella says:** guess what? it works. he likes me 2 and Im over at his house.

**Carlos says: **hey thats awesome! I told logan and now everything is cool. he loves me 2 good luck with mike u crazy beautiful girl.

**Manuella says: **lol u 2. I love u baby boy.

**Manuella says: **hey u still there?

**Manuella says: **I know what ur doing tonite. bom chicka wow wow.

Carlos rolls his eyes, texting back quickly:

**Carlos says: **u pervert. but ur right. call me back sometime.

He holds Logan's hand in his as sunlight streams into the room, filling it with warm, lazy light.

"Hey," he hears someone say and the door opens. "You guys want some-"

James stands there in a pair of pajama pants and nothing else, a cup of coffee clutched in his hand. His hair is ruffled and he blushes dark red at what he sees. "Um, I'm just going to let you guys-"

He stops, face flushing, and shuts the door.

Carlos rolls his eyes, giving Logan a quick kiss on the head. He slips into a pair of sweat pants that he grabs out of Logan's closet. He throws on a t-shirt and runs his hand over his hair, grimacing. He really needs a shower.

He slips out the door, being careful not to make any noise. He slinks against the wall (--and he fully intends to explain to James that what he saw was nothing, that they just love each other--) until he reaches Kendall's room, where he hears whispering.

Carlos stops, and peers in the door.

James is laying down on Kendall's chest, the coffee cup lying abandoned on the end table.

"So you seriously saw them… um, sleeping together?" Kendall asks, raising his eyebrows.

"No, they weren't really. But they were naked, under the sheets, all wrapped up in each other and there were clothes on the floor. Do you know what else that could be?" James asks.

Kendall pretends to think for a second. "Well, it was raining yesterday, so maybe Carlos-"

"No!" James whispers harshly, glaring at Kendall. "The correct answer was 'no.' They were naked and laying in bed together. Obviously, there was some sex going on. Plus, yesterday Carlos kissed James and said that he loved him. Why else would Logan be crying if they weren't together?"

_He was crying? _Carlos thinks, guilt filling up his chest. _I made him cry? Oh gawd…_

"Geez, it could be something else. I wonder why I put up with you sometimes," Kendall says. He's grinning so Carlos knows that he isn't serious. He runs a hand through James' disheveled hair.

"You know why. Because you love me, duh," James says, laughing. He leans up and gives Kendall a quick kiss before laying his head on his shoulder. "And I love you, baby."

Kendall hums. "I love you too."

Carlos shuts the door, deciding to let them have their moment alone. He slinks back to Logan's room and slides in between the sheets of the bed.

Logan groans and says, "Morning."

Carlos laughs, giving him a quick kiss. "Morning, sleeping beauty."

Logan wrinkles his nose and asks, "What time is it?"

"About eight," he tells him. He gives Logan a quick kiss and whispers, "I love you."

"I love you too," Logan admits, smiling at him. "I'm probably to never get tired of telling you that."

Carlos smiles. "I hope you don't."

Sunlight filters in through the room and it seems to burn through the sheets and into his skin. He gently whispers, "I love you. You're the most amazing person ever. You set me alight, I swear."

Logan smiles at him, burying his face in his chest. "Way to sound like a pyromaniac there, baby."

He grins crookedly, wrapping his arms around Logan's frame. "No, seriously. You set me alight, burn love and passion in my chest like matches and candle lighters and…"

"Lighter fluid," Logan mumbles sleepily, giving him a sloppy kiss on the neck. "You set me alight like lighter fluid."

"And you'll burn me all the way down to ashes." Carlos grins, face lighting up in a smile. "You set me alight like lighter fluid and you'll burn me all the way down to ashes, and like a phoenix, I'll rise up. Made from self-destruction, which is beautiful."

"What?" Logan asks, looking at him oddly. "What are you rambling on about?"

Carlos grins at him, shaking his head. "Oh, nothing. Just go back to sleep."

Logan complies and in a few seconds, he hears soft snoring.

Carlos leans his head against his lovers' (--and the thought sends shivers down his back and makes him terrified and nervous and excited all at once--) and crashes, words still in replay in his head.

_You set me alight like lighter fluid… and you'll burn me all the way down to ashes… like a phoenix, I'll rise up... my self-destruction is going to be beautiful._

---

**an: **dear gawd, it's over.

i don't know if you understand the last few lines, but Carlos keeps thinking that self-destruction is supposed to be beautiful (and it's only referenced like only, oh, a half a dozen times throughout the story) and that his is going to be hideous and ugly, bloody and brutal because that's what he thinks he deserves. he thinks that the world needs to see how much of a screw-up he is.

so pretty much, the last few lines are just him coming to accept himself the way he is.

the final word count on this is around nineteen thousand words. dear lawd, this is massive.

how do you guys like Manuella? i tried my hardest not to make her a mary-sure, and i think that i did pretty good. i really like her, but i don't know how you guys will percieve her.

on the upside, this officially means that i am halfway done with my goal of one story for each of the boys.

kendall has _broadway is dark tonight, _and carlos has _lighter fluid._

this just leaves james and logan, and i have a general idea of what theirs will be about. check on my profile sometime to see how those are coming along.

my spell check on my computer is broke and there is only so much i can do, so if there are any horrible mistakes, they're all mine. (i don't use microsoft word or anything, i use Microsoft Works Word Processor and somehow the spell check broke and i don't know how to get it back so…)

please review this, you don't know how hard i worked on this. there is about forty-five pages of this, nineteen thousand words, and about thirty-five hours of my life into this story. equal that all up, and that's a helluva lot of work and time and blood and sweat and tears.

so please review this beauty right here, it would absolutely make my day.


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